Hot Summer Night
by dontstealmyvitaminies
Summary: I don't do camping. I don't do teamwork. I make tea for bane-of-my-existence-Darcy. But four days in the wilderness, alright, the Blue Mountains, taught me something. Firstly, I AM THE SPOTTO QUEEN. Secondly, Meat Loaf is epic. And lastly - I love Darcy.


**DAY ONE OF CRUEL TORTURE**

What the hell am I doing? I don't _camp_. I don't sit by a fire melting tim-tams and pretending I'm really melting Darcy's face.

Do possums eat people? I've seen some pretty vicious furry things running around before, I don't like my chances.

My legs hurt. My arms hurt. Oh, what's that, Janny-Panny? Am I having fun?

Aren't twins supposed to be in tune to each other's thoughts or something like that? _Why doth my sister ask such a thing_?

I should be at home right now, snuggled up in bed with a cup of tea, Meat Loaf blaring in the background, getting stuck into another exciting Sherlock Holmes adventure.

"You burnt _water_. How the fuck do you burn _water_?" Charlotte growled, turning to me with eyes of fire and brimstone. Wow. She looks like Frollo in _Hunchback_.

I could go for a Disney movie right about now. I wonder if my iPhone can get reception out here...

No. Damn you, Optus, bane of my existence. When I get home, I'm switching to Telstra. I don't care if it's trying to take over the world – at least I'll have youtube on my descent to hell.

"You live with me, Char. You _know_ I can do shit all domestic duties," I reminded my friend, a little patronisingly, if I'm honest.

"Ladies! Is this good teamwork?" came an annoyingly chirpy voice from behind as Charlotte attempted to beat my brains out with the burnt pot.

"Charlie! She's trying to kill me!" I wailed pathetically, diving to grasp onto one of his legs.

See, normal people don't do that to their boss. But I'm not normal, and neither is Charlie.

And besides, it's his fault. Well, actually, it's Darcy's fault. Well, it's both their faults, but Charlie is my boss with a little 'b', and Darcy is my Boss with a capital. In fact, it's more like caps, because Darcy is the BOSS boss. The head honcho. The big guy in the sky. King of the bosses with little 'b', and because I'm a lowly PA to the BOSS boss I'm like an employee with a negative 'e'. I'm a mployee.

Alright, that made no sense, I have to admit. And hardly anything I ever say makes sense. This is extra-nonsensical.

Anways, Darcy hates me. He hates everyone. That's why he decided this 'teamwork exercise' was a good idea. Because it's not. It's _not_ a good idea to wake up at five in the morning and drive to the bloody Blue Mountains (or at least I _think_ that's where I am) to spend four days in the bush. I'm not trained to camp. I'm trained to answer phones, make tea, organise meetings and sit up at three in the morning writing a book that no one is _ever_ going to read. Well, maybe Jane, because she loves me. And maybe Charlotte, because she hates me, and wouldn't miss an opportunity to cause some serious emotional damage by telling me it sucks. I'm trained to answer emails and put up with Fitzwilliam bane-of-my-existence-jerk-face Darcy while he traipses around like he owns the place.

To be fair, he _does_ own the place. But life isn't fair.

As my daddy likes to say, 'life's a bitch and then you die'.

Admittedly, my daddy is fucked up, because he first told me that when I was four.

He said it to explain why Bambi's mum died in the first five minutes of what seemed like a happy movie. Love you too, dad.

The point is that I'm _not_ trained for teamwork activities that have so far involved me waking at an ungodly hour, carry a fucking elephant on my back for five hours as I climbed up a mountain, and have to watch all my colleagues, whom I despise, actually enjoy themselves as their muscles explode. And everyone seems to enjoy camping here. They all must get discounts at Kakadu or something.

And, while I'm at it, why on _earth_ does a publishing firm need to involve themselves in camping anyway? We sit in the office producing books all day. And _none_ of those books are about camping, either.

Back to reality. I only let go of Charlie's leg because it was making my pants fall down, and I think I flashed Darcy with my green dinosaur undies. He looks vaguely horrified.

Well, actually, he looks like Darcy, but Darcy always looks horrified in my direction. In fact, he always _looks_ at me. My desk is right outside his office, which has glass walls. So I'm right in his line of vision. A regular day at the office consists of:

Me getting sick of his staring. Me getting up and pretty much storming into the room.

"Yes, Mister Darcy? Did you need me? Is that why you were looking at me, you disgustingly sexy sex God?"

(the last bit is only added in my head, but I say it very forcefully)

"No."

He's the king of monosyllables. He's also the kind of sexiness, but let's not go there. My mind already goes there too often for my liking.

So, Jane and Charlotte took over the cooking and I put up the tent. Our hot pink tent with the Disney Princesses on the side.

If they didn't like it, they shouldn't have let me pick the tent.

They're just jealous. It has an air bed in it, too, so I then get to blow that up. I love my life.

By the time I'd finished blowing up the bloody tent they'd already finished cooking. And what a meal it was – Continental side dishes. This one was tomato and onion pasta, and because we're cool, we're eating it with Turkish bread. The others are smearing tuna all over their bread – freaks. The smell is making me sick.

I was half tempted to sit with the only other vegetarian in the group, but nothing, _nothing_ could make me sit next to Darcy by choice. Actually, come to think of it, because Caroline Bitch Bingley doesn't eat anything but air and water, she might be a vegetarian too. But she appears to be eating grass. Well, I knew she was a cow.

I made a joke.

Shame I didn't make it out loud, and started laughing to myself.

That's alright; they already think I'm a freak. Who cares?

Oh my, Jane and Charlie are making eyes at each other. Again. I hope they don't get frisky tonight; we're going to need all the body heat we can get in that tent.

What am I saying? It's _January_. It was forty-three damn degrees today. This did _not _make hiking fun, when your entire body feels like melting under the extreme summer heat. Let's get rid of Jane, and Charlotte too. I'll sleep with no one but my dinosaur undies for company. The hot pink bra has to go; it's only holding me back.

Charlotte is ignoring me and Jane is sitting with Charlie. I love you too, Char, baby. Louisa and Caroline are glaring at me and Bill Collins is trying to lure me over with weird bird-calls.

God. Stab me with a spoon, he just attempted a kookaburra. I couldn't tell if he was trying to be a bird or if that's just how he normally laughs.

Note to self: find a snake/spider/possum/wombat/prison escapee to slip into his tent tonight.

In lack of better things to do, the iPhone headphones go in and Lykke Li is soothing me immediately. Things look better already. Even dinner looks a bit better.

"Lizzy, why not delight us with a musical number? As my wonderful mentor and close friend Catherine de Bourg would say, 'music is the mark of class and superiority'."

Suddenly life sucks, it's Bill bloody Collins again.

No one likes Bill.

No one. Not even his 'mentor', the rich, powerful (and _very_ bitchy) owner of Rosings Industries. Which is, by the way, the biggest plastic company in Australia. She's also responsible for massive amounts of environmental destruction, the whore. And just to add to the list of why I want to give her a big warm hug, she's Darcy's Mum. Or Aunt. Or mistress. Or owner, whatever.

I'd only met the wench-faced slurry once, but it's pretty easy to pick up the family resemblance, they both have their noses stuck in the air.

I'll show Bill bloody Collins a mark of superiority.

In my mind I round house kicked him. In reality I ignored him.

"Eliza can't _sing_, Collins!" Caroline laughed. "That would be like teaching a _dog_ to sing!" she continued, practically shrieking with laughter. Louisa is having her fair share of giggles too.

"And our fantastically close acquaintance has made you privy to my musical talents?" I drawled pointedly, glaring at the twin bitches. Caroline sniffed.

"Well if you _can,_ then why don't you?"

"I can also put my legs behind my head, stand on one hand and round house kick you to New Zealand. Singing is one of the many things I don't do in company because the opportunity just doesn't come up," I retorted, trying to be as cool as I could. I got a few stares at the legs behind my head thing. From the males, of course.

Suffice to say, I sort of backed myself into that one. Apparently that was all that needed to be said for an impromptu karaoke session to be declared.

Ew, I knew we'd be singing camp songs. Caroline and Louisa sang a horrifically out of tune duet to '_A Whole New World_'. Well, I already hated the song, it's not like they could ruin that for me.

Why am I sitting around a campfire with people singing? And _why_ does Charlie know all the words to High School Musical? I have no respect for him now.

I refuse to allow him to sleep with my twin. She's too hot for a guy that listens to High School Musical. I knew something was suss when he said he enjoyed _New Moon_. Jane is too pretty for a Twihard-HSM fan.

Darcy passed on the sing-along. Surprise, surprise. That guy from marketing who never seems to do anything did an interesting rendition of _'It's a Hard-Knock Life_'. Suffice to say, 'Annie' will never be the same.

Good Lord, Collins must watch Gilmore Girls. He's so bloody Kirk it's disgusting – he's singing '_Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?_'

Yes, Bill, I really _do_ want to hurt you.

Jane, oh sweet Jane, can't sing for shit. Lucky she's so pretty. Who needs talent when you look like Twiggy? But that's okay, I never liked '_Big Girls Don't Cry_' anyway. We're sweet.

Shame on Wickham. I thought he'd be up to the challenge – oh well, at least he backed out gracefully. And I would have loved to see him sing '_I'm Too Sexy_'.

Those two guys who never say anything in meetings politely declined. Yeah, no shockers there. I wish I didn't have to listen to Glen from edits perform that touching Enrique song, but hell, he's entertaining.

Of course, Charlotte and I dazzled the crowd with our animated rendition of Meat Loaf's '_You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth_'.

I was Meat Loaf.

Which is ironic, because I'm a vegetarian.

Yeah, I find that amusing. No one else does, but that's alright.

Ooh, I loved Caroline's scowl, very satisfying. Suffice to say I nailed that, insert smugness here. The bitch has nothing on me, I am superior.

Great, Darcy isn't happy, he's stood up and wandered off to his tent. Which is damned fancy, if I might say so myself, but it's not like I care. He was probably offended by my somewhat over the top intro.

Me: On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?

Charlotte: Only if the wolf is Jacob.

Me: Too bad, I'm Remus Lupin. Ahem. On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?

Charlotte: Will he offer me his mouth?

Me: Yes.

Charlotte: Will he offer me his teeth?

Me: Ja.

Charlotte: You're not Swedish. Will he offer me his jaws?

Me: Ja-Ja.

Charlotte: Shutup. Will he offer me his hunger?

Me: Yes (proceeds to feel Charlotte up)

Charlotte: Again? Will he offer me his hunger?

Me: Yes! (in overly sexual moan-style, this is where people started to fall off logs with laughter)

Charlotte: Sure, why not.

Me: On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?

Charlotte: Take me, I'm yours!

Me: I bet you say that to all the boys.

Charlotte: Yes. Yes I do.

Maybe Charlotte and I shouldn't have felt each other up and pretended to pash. That might have been overdoing it, but hey, we both live for our art. This isn't the first time we've performed that.

And as long as the priest wasn't serious about that ban from all weddings in New South Wales, it won't be the last.

Oh look, Darcy's back, looking as sexy as ever. How does he look sexy after a five hour hike? Bastard.

I should stop swearing. I do too much of that.

Who cares. I was being smug.

My smugness wasn't long-lived, however. We had to do 'team building exercises'.

In other words, spotto.

Allow me to explain the wonders of 'spotto'. The game has two meanings. One is hitting someone in the arm when a yellow car drives past and crying out 'SPOTTO'. But I'm twenty-four, not fourteen, so that's a no.

The second version is a _much_ more enjoyable game. You have your spotters and your searchers. The two jerks who never say anything, Caroline, Louisa and Darcy were spotters.

That meant it was Wickham, Bill, Charlotte, Jane, Charlie, Glen from edits, that guy from management and I were searchers. Darcy hid the glowstick and our aim was to find it without being seen by a spotter. If they shone their torch on us, we died and had to start again at the beginning. The first one to get the glowstick wins.

I'm a pro spotto player, and a bit competitive.

I nearly socked Wickham in his lovely eyes when I commando rolled past Caroline and Louisa, who were bitching about me, and I kicked Collins in the face before diving behind him so one of the jerks got him with their torch and he had to go back.

Collins: Lizzy! My love! We can win _together_! Come back for me!

Me: Die.

I saw Charlotte behind a tree, two lines of dirt on her cheeks like some sort of war paint. The bitch kicked my shin when I walked past and Caroline got me, much to her delight, but it only took two minutes to catch up from the beginning, and I threw a stick at Charlotte.

One of the jerks got her when she shrieked.

I reign superior.

"That's cheating," I told Darcy with a frown. He glanced around when he heard my voice.

He was sitting right in front of the tree where the glowstick was hanging.

The bastard.

"Hardly. If you're determined enough, you can get it," he replied simply, leaning back against the large roots.

The most important thing about me is that I play dirty.

I waited till Charlotte got close, and just as she started to climb the tree from behind I lightly wrapped my hand around her leg. She screamed and fell in Darcy's lap.

Charlotte: ....

Darcy: ....

Charlotte: .... hey, Boss.

Darcy: Miss Lucas?

Charlotte: Yup?

Darcy: Not meaning to sound rude, but I currently can't feel any of my external reproductive organs.

Charlotte: Woops.

Darcy: Would you mind moving?

Charlotte: Um, yeah. Wouldn't want to injure those organs.

Darcy: The thought is appreciated.

Meanwhile, I was climbing the tree. I waited till Charlotte was just getting up until I swung down right in front of her face, my calves hooked over the overhanging branch.

Suffice to say, she screamed.

And I won.

And I was a bitch about it too; I had a victory dance and everything.

Probably why Charlotte tackled me.

But all was forgiven when we decided to be the bitchiest spotters known to man when the tables were turned.

We sat in the tree, and I stuck the glowstick in the back pocket of my jeans.

Suffice to say, no one claimed that glowstick.

We got back to camp hot, sweaty and smelling of victory. And sweat.

Showers all round.

Oh, and apparently Charlotte _didn't_ forgive me, because she stole my clothes and left me with nothing but a flannel and the undies I'd brought with me to change into.

Purple boylegs with Hello Kitty on the crotch.

So, after drying myself with the ten square centimetres of flannel, I was stuck in a shower wearing nothing but purple undies.

Me: (sticking my head out the door, then slowly creeping out as inconspicuously as possible)

Darcy: (appearing randomly on his way to the shower)

Me: ... I don't normally do this.

Darcy: (staring rather obviously as I frantically try to alternate between using one arm to cover my boobies and the other to cover my Hello Kitty undies).

Me: ... Charlotte stole my clothes cos I'm a bitch.

Darcy: ... uh – you – urm, a – are you – err...

Me: What, never seen your half-naked PA wearing highly suggestive undies as she tries to sneak back to camp?

Darcy: I don't make a habit of it... (looking delightfully flustered, and considering how much he's staring I doubt he's gay. Looks like I just lost ten dollars.)

Me: Um, do you have a shirt or something I could borrow? I kind of doubt anyone wants to see me nakie.

Although, I've been working out recently, and I got a wax before I went on camp, so that's probably just me saying that out of modesty.

Darcy: I – err, of course, I, uhh... (finally manages to give me the navy sleeping shirt he has hanging over his shoulder, I'm less than elegant taking it but thankful all the same)

Me: Mind closing your eyes?

Darcy: What? Oh. Uh, of course.

I only take a minute to put it on, but I'm pretty sure his eyes weren't closed the whole time...

Me: Thanks for that. I'll give it back in a minute, I just need to find some pyjamas and kill Charlotte.

Darcy: Anytime. (nodding and heading back to showers) Oh, and –

He turned around, looking rather sheepish.

"You're wrong if you think no one wants to see you naked," he said simply, with a hint of a smirk, before he continued on his way to the shower.

I for one, was stumped.

I changed quickly and placed the shirt outside of his tent after kicking Charlotte.

I didn't feel like staying up for hot chocolate or going to look for where Jane and Charlie had gone to make babies.

'_You're wrong if you think no one wants to see you naked_.'

That thought was spinning around in my head all night, and not even the sounds of possums going at it and Charlotte hitting on Wickham could drown that out.

_You're wrong if you think no one wants to see you naked._

_You're wrong if you think no one wants to see you naked._

_You're wrong if you think no one wants to see you naked._

So what did it mean?

**DAY TWO OF CRUEL TORTURE**

So, this morning I was a complete and total wipe out. Had barely slept a wink, couldn't do more than sip a bit of tea and was constantly glancing over to Darcy, who was staring at me, as per usual.

I'd come to four possible conclusions:

Darcy was being polite. He's not good at it, but at least he tried to boost my self-confidence. He's never done it before, but maybe this is a start.

Darcy just put his foot in his mouth. He was trying to be funny, but it didn't work out.

Darcy thinks someone in the group wants to see me naked.

Darcy wants to see me naked.

But I doubt it's four. It can't be four.

Anyway, he's a prick.

So clearly Jane and Charlie got it on, because she didn't come to our tent last night and I heard giggles. They might have been from Charlie, but they sounded girly.

Once again, might have been from Charlie.

They were cooing and touching and smiling over breakfast, so they probably had fun. At least someone had fun. Charlotte hogged the Snow White side of the tent and I got stuck with Sleeping Beauty.

I hate Sleeping Beauty. All she did was lie around and have a nap.

I wanna be Belle. Belle _worked_ for her Prince Charming. Belle didn't care about appearances.

And let's face it, she's cute. I'm also an Ariel fan, because I love rangas, but Belle had a talking wardrobe. Talking wardrobe beats talking crab any day.

Sorry, Sebastian.

I wish my wardrobe could talk. It'd tell me what to wear in the morning and I'd never have to worry...

Speaking of worry about what to wear, _what do I wear_?

Me: Uh, does anyone know what we're doing today?

Wickham: Canoeing, hun.

Me: Fuck me dead.

Wickham: Is that an offer?

I'm getting sick of suggestive comments. But at least Collins has moved onto Charlotte now, which helps my situation.

Although, my Mum is going to hate me for turning him down.

But she hates me anyway.

Wickham is clingy as we pack up to go to the next campsite. I'm not into clingy. And although he's cute (in a boy-band sort of way), he's not my type.

I'm more a tall dark and handsome. I'd go for a Richard Armitage, Robert Downey Jr. or Ralph Fiennes over Justin fucking Bieber.

Hmm. Darcy is tall, dark and handsome...

NO. BRAIN, DO NOT THINK THESE THINGS.

Haha, so poor Charlotte had to canoe with Collins. I got Wickham. Darcy didn't seem happy about that, but I don't care. I pretended to enjoy myself just to spite him.

Oh, and by the way, canoeing is shit scary. Middle of a fucking ocean (okay, not quite, but there was lots of water) and Wickham thinks rocking the boat could be fun.

Suffice to say, I stabbed him with my oar.

It took us two hours and my arms were aching by the end of it, but at least when it was all over we could have a swim.

Note to self: Darcy is a God when not wearing a shirt.

Hmm, weird. Jane seems upset, and it's not just the twin thing. She's actually... crying. And Charlie is looking miserable.

Well, considering my wonderful gifts for sticking my foot in my mouth, I said nothing over lunch.

But she was still upset that afternoon after another bought of team building activities, which was slightly suspicious, and made imminent action necessary. That and the fact that archery + miserable girl + that cockfuckjerkscumpig-man Charlie who broke her heart = mild massacre.

And no one wants that, do they?

Well, I want to kill Charlie for saying he didn't think things could 'work' between he and Jane after getting frisky with her the night before.

Note to self: after return to reality, google castration, find a tutorial.

Anyway, so I hate Charlie, which is probably why I wasn't very polite with my paintball technique.

That's okay, neither was Charlotte. Apart from occasionally going out of our way to cause harm to Caroline and Louisa, we pretty much shit kicked him for an hour.

We were vicious. He cried.

Grr. Some ridiculous 'sit around in a circle and say something important about yourself' game to play.

Even Darcy looked pissed to play.

Darcy: I have one sister.

Caroline: I love sex in cars. When they're moving.

Everyone: ...

Charlotte: Whore.

Caroline: What?

Charlotte: I said 'whore'.

Caroline: Huh?

Charlotte: I said, 'I shut doors'. That's my thing. I'm a door shutter.

Me: All those days when I've been rescued from a draft!

Charlotte: It was me, doing my noble work.

Louisa: Well – once I had sex with a girl!

Everyone: ....

Wickham: Me too.

Collins: I love Charlotte.

Random guy from marketing: So do I.

Charlotte: We've never met!

Random guy from marketing: You're Charlotte?

Jerk #1: I've been having an affair.

Jerk #2: I'm impotent.

Glen from Edits: I'm both of those things.

Everyone: ...

Charlie: I – I – I –

Jane: *sniffle*

Me: (stands up, clears throat, recites wolf pack speech from '_The Hangover_')

So, sharing is fun. Sharing too much is not fun. Apparently Caroline and Louisa have not seen '_The Hangover' _and thought I was actually planning on going to Vegas to look for strippers and cocaine.

My response to her horror was to insist that America isn't real, and that it was invented by those damn British to keep us Australians on our toes.

Apparently Darcy's parents were both born in England. Didn't know that. Apparently my joke wasn't appreciated.

Anyway, back to the hating of Charlie. He's a prick.

Improvement on the whole 'tent' thing, we're sleeping in a hall tonight, with proper bathrooms and everything, and quite nice showers, comparatively.

There was a projector and some DVDs left to us by the kind owners of the campsite of death.

Transformers, New Moon, Iron Man II or Sherlock Holmes.

Not many people votes for Sherlock Holmes, but I licked the covers of the other three DVDs so they had no choice but to put it on, particularly when I announced I had herpes.

Caroline squealed. It was quite amusing.

Annoyed everyone by reciting all the lines and drooling over Robert Downey Jr. I love Sherlock Holmes.

I'm going to move into 221B Baker Street, London.

Charlotte can be my Watson.

Charlie will be Gladstone, the dog I constantly poison.

Dinner was much more vegetarian-friendly, a delicious camp-of-death supplied spinach and ricotta cannelloni. Filled me up for another game of spotto, this time in a _much_ bigger area. With plenty of ditches for Charlotte and I to dump Charlie's body after we stab him with a glowstick.

Charlotte and I went full on commando. We dressed ourselves in plain black clothing and stole Caroline's lipstick (who uses _lipstick_ when they're camping?) to do war paint on our faces. And by war paint, I mean monocles and handlebar moustaches to make ourselves look like Sherlock Holmes and Watson. I even found a beanie with flappy ears that sort of looked like a deer-hunting cap.

So within the first few minutes we kicked Charlie in the back of the knees and pushed him down a hill, knocking Collins over in the process. We're awesome.

Wickham was making moves so we pushed him down the hill too, and from the sounds of it, I don't think Collins and Charlie got out of the way.

We were so busy trying to trip people up we let Glen from edits get the glowstick the first round.

But we were _ready_ for the second.

First move; push Charlie down the hill again.

Second move; throw mud at Collins.

Third move; call Wickham a girl.

Fourth move; sprint, roll, sprint, roll, sprint, roll, roll, roll, roll...

Fifth move; get selves out of ditch, go behind Caroline and Louisa and take their torches while they weren't watching.

Sixth move; shine torch on Wickham, make him start again.

Seventh move; blind Darcy with two high powered torches and get glowstick.

Eighth move; realise Darcy would know whoever won had actually tried to blind him, and would probably be fired.

Ninth move; pretend to make amends with Charlie and give him the glowstick.

Tenth move; send out hate to all men.

We won in spirit, if not in name. But that made no difference when we found Jane still sniffling in the hall, all by herself. Charlotte stayed with her and missed out on the next round of spotto. I wandered off in wait for someone with my torch, my mind spinning with a hundred million thoughts. The two most dominant were:

Why did Charlie break up with Jane?

And '_You're wrong if you think no one wants to see you naked.'_

"My life is confusing," I said aloud with a frown.

"You're young. It'll seem that way for a while yet," came a voice from behind. I turned, and Darcy approached, sitting beside me, staring out of the light grey leaves of the wattle tree I was sitting behind.

"It's not nice to sneak up on people," I frowned pointedly. He smirked.

"It's not nice to try to blind your employer," he retorted simply. I bit my lip, well aware I couldn't really fight that. "Why did you blame it on Charlie?" he questioned innocently.

"Because he's scum."

"I thought you liked Charlie," he exclaimed with surprise. I glared at the black night before me.

"He's scum. No one messes with my twin and gets to keep my good opinion," I insisted.

"I'm quite similar to that, you know. When my good opinion is lost, it's lost forever."

I glanced to him with a frown. "Yeah, well Charlie's lost my good opinion for good. He's a vile, disgusting monster and I don't care if he's my boss," I declared. Darcy chuckled, seeming quite at ease.

"That's alright. I won't tell him," he assured.

I felt suspicious instantly. Why was he being friendly? He's _never_ friendly. Not at work, at least. This was... strange behaviour, to say the least.

"Are you enjoying the camp?" he enquired politely, after some silence. I shrugged.

"It's fun, I suppose," I replied simply. Because so far I _had_ been having some fun. "But I don't see the point. I mean, first of all, team building is a bit too fluffy for me, and anyway, I'm a PA. I don't work in teams, there's no logicality in my being here," I shrugged.

Darcy turned to me with a small smile playing on his lips. It made him look devilishly handsome, to say the least.

"You're here because I want to here."

I swallowed.

"Alright... uh, but I've not made you tea or answered emails or organised –"

"I'd like to think our relationship extends a little beyond work, Elizabeth," he smiled.

I blinked. It didn't.

"At least, that it _will_ in the future," he added, somewhat obviously, his hand sliding across the grass to sit beside mine.

Chest tightening, head swimming, blood racing.

This is so not happening.

"You've been with the company for three years. I know we didn't get along when you were still an intern," he began.

I scoffed. Didn't get along? Our first meeting was _more_ than 'didn't get along':

Me: Good morning Mister Darcy, I'm Elizabeth Bennett, your new intern. It's a pleasure to meet you, and I'm very excited to be working at Pemberley & Co.

Darcy: Go away. I don't have time for brainless students.

"But... Elizabeth, in the past three years I've come to... well, _love_ you," he admitted.

Can't breathe. Can't breathe.

"I mean, I know it's not right. I know I'm your employer, and that you're twenty-four, and that you come from the sticks, and that my family has much higher expectations of me, but – but I _love_ you, and it's been a damned torture, trying to get over this for the past few months, but I just can't anymore," he sighed, staring ahead of him as his hand reached to cover mine.

I didn't say anything. I don't know if I was more surprised or more shocked.

"I wasn't sure what I should do, particularly when I saw what your sister was trying to pull on Charlie, but I just don't want to fight this anymore, Lizzy! I want you to be mine and mine alone – if you resign we can –"

"_What_?"

He blinked at my exclamation. "Well, of course we can't work together _and_ live together. It's against the company policy, and it's not like you need to work anyway," he shrugged.

"I like to work," I growled. He sighed.

"We can discuss that later. Listen, I can throw the damn glowstick in the river and we can go back to the hall before anyone gets back," he sighed, sounding rather impatient.

"Why?" I frowned in confusion. He looked at me rather obviously.

"Elizabeth, I've been in a torment for nearly three years. Please. Dear God, give me tonight and I'd give you every earthly possession I have," he practically begged, his arm sliding around my waist.

Before I knew it he was kissing me.

And I mean _kissing_ me. He was really going a pretty damn good job. He's very easily the best kisser known to mankind.

And I wasn't resisting. I don't know how long we were – ahem, _occupied_, but his hand was sliding beneath my black jumper to pull it up and over my head before I finally realised what was happening.

I jumped back immediately.

'_You're wrong if you think no one wants to see you naked._'

'_Give me tonight and I'd give you every earthly possession I have_'.

Suffice to say I freaked out a bit.

"You – you _bastard_!" I cried angrily. "How dare you ruin my sister's life and try to – to get into my pants the same day! It was _you_! You told Charlie to end it with Jane!" I shouted as loudly as I could.

He urgently tried to shush me, but I was so pissed _nothing_ could have silenced me.

"You're scum! You're nothing but _scum_! You can't just insult me and – and –" I stopped myself, jumped to my feet and ran off. I doubt anyone heard, I was shouting but we were rather secluded, and from the looks of it when I returned to the hall, everyone had already gone in earlier.

So I pasted on a smile and told Jane and Charlotte I was going to have a shower.

I sat in the bottom, trembling. It was too much. Three years of monosyllables and suddenly...

I shivered, but not from cold. How could I be so stupid?

And how could I enjoy kissing Darcy so much?

I'd never felt more... confused in my entire life.

I sat against the wall on my thin foam mattress, staring across the dark hall to the French doors which opened up to the endless green grass and hills, the river, and beyond that the bush. It was too hot to sleep, too hot to think... all I could do was sit there and contemplate how much I wished I'd never agreed to go on this camp after all.

**DAY THREE OF CRUEL TORTURE**

I woke up feeling absolutely crap. Breakfast was awkward, to say the least. I avoided even glancing at Darcy or Charlie, simply staring at my Sultana Bran as if it had just grown a face.

Although, those sultanas looked a little friendly...

Another hike followed after breakfast, complete with absailing down a cliff.

Me: fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck I'm gonna die.

Darcy: (awkwardly, oh, and he looks like shit) It's alright. I've got you.

Which only made it worse. I started to cry when my feet finally got to flat land, and his response was to hug me – it was the most soothing, comfortable embrace I'd ever felt. He pulled away too quickly, red faced and ashamed.

"I'm sorry. You did wonderfully," he assured me quietly. I nodded and sniffled. He squeezed my hand, and when he turned away to go assist a wailing Louisa, I felt a folded piece of paper still left in my palm.

I sat down on the nearest rock and waiting for the others to join me. Nervously I folded open the paper that had _Elizabeth_ written in his beautifully measured and perfectly neat handwriting.

_Dear Elizabeth,_

_I wish I could give you this note. I don't have the courage, so I've written two. _

_The first, you will read, complete with an explanation of why I was worried for my friend Charlie and an apology for my conduct. I wish I'd never meddled. But I'm a meddler. Charlie is probably my only friend, other than my sister Georgia and my cousin Richard. I don't make friends easily, and when I thought Jane might only be flirting with Charlie to get a better position at the company, I guess I just overreacted._

_I didn't want to share him. He's just about all I have, really, and I know it's selfish, but that's the truth. He's a part of my family, really. And I don't have much family – not after my parents died just before you joined the company. I'd hoped that maybe – but I'm being stupid. _

_The point is that this is the letter I'll never show you. I'll burn it and give you the proper, appropriate letter full of apologies for making our work situation difficult. Of course I'll promote you to a different area – your talents are wasted as a PA, but I just wanted you near. I needed you near. _

_It's difficult to admit that I need you. But I do, and in every sense. I wasn't thinking with my head last night, but rather with my libido, and for that I'm sorry, but kissing you was simply... incredible. I felt lighter than I've felt in years, it was as if I could taste your youth. It didn't even matter that you had lipstick all over your face, although that was a bit odd. I just wanted to kiss you and touch you and love you. I had to leave the campsite the first night before you saw what you do to me – when you were singing that song and being so... playful with your friend, it was just too much. _

_And seeing you come out of the shower in nothing but your underwear. Bloody hell, Lizzy, I had the coldest shower known to man and it still couldn't get the image of your body out of my mind. Since you'll never read this I'll be honest – I opened my eyes. I'm ashamed, but I don't regret it. You're absolutely gorgeous to me, and I completely adore you. _

_So I'm telling Charlie I was wrong about Jane and I'm going to try to take myself out of your life, because I don't trust myself not to pin you to my desk every morning when you come in with my tea. But I won't stop dreaming of you, and for that I'm angry at you. I damn well wish I wasn't going to be haunted by you every day of the rest of my life, but I am, there's no point denying it._

_So I'll burn this letter and try to do my best to fix what I broke with your sister and my friend. _

_I'm sorry, and I love you._

_Fitzwilliam._

I lowered the letter, my heart racing.

Clearly he gave me the wrong one.

"Hey? You right?" Charlotte asked, climbing out of her harness. I nodded and pasted on another smile.

"Fine. Let's go down, I think the Jerks and Wickham are down there, we might as well join them," I shrugged. Charlotte babbled on about something but I didn't listen.

My mind was too full with that damn letter.

It was stupid of me to be so self-reflective, because I didn't hear Charlotte tell me that Charlie was talking to Jane again, and was apologising profusely. It vaguely clicked later when we stopped for a lunch of muesli bars and JUST JUICE poppers, and they were sitting together, speaking tentatively. It made me smile, just a little.

But I was still so confused about Darcy. I _enjoyed_ kissing him, and the more I thought about it, the more I'd come to... well, feel for him, I suppose. I cared for him more than I'd ever realised, and it hurt me to see him look so... sad.

It was something about the way his eyebrows dropped slightly, and the glassy look on his eyes. He wasn't crying, he wasn't even frowning (anymore than usual), but he looked... devastated. I felt powerful but horrible at the same time.

Cave exploring was no fun when I was just so damn confused. Charlotte would babble and I would nod, not even listening. I wasn't even paying enough attention to be scared of the darkness or the bats.

Which is probably why I fell.

Or at least, I think I fell. Because one moment I was beside Charlotte as she told me to be careful while we came out of the opening of the cave, tail-end Charlie once again, and then the next there was dry, hot dirt beneath my back and my head and leg were throbbing. I heard Char scream, so I must have fallen. It didn't really hurt that much, but it was dark and I just – I couldn't see anything, not even the opening. I think I heard rocks shift, which might explain why the opening of the cave seemed to disappear. So I couldn't see at all.

But I could hear.

Charlotte: Lizzy! Oh God, _Lizzy_!

Charlie: What happened?

Charlotte: She – she's fallen down the cave, I can't see her!

Darcy: Charlotte, _move_!

I heard a scuffle and people shout at him, but Darcy seemed to win. I tried to move but I just couldn't, and it suddenly occurred to me that I was in a _cave_, a pitch black cave with spiders and snakes and bats and maybe even Gollum.

"Fitzwilliam!" I cried out as loudly as I could. I don't know why, but _he_ was the person I needed to see. I tried to sit up, my leg and head were aching but I felt firm rock behind me (either rock or Gollum's abs, but I think it was rock, because Gollum was a bit too skinny) that I could support my back on.

"It's alright, Elizabeth, I'm here. The rocks have blocked the opening, but I'm going to get you out, just – just stay where you are," I heard him assure me as gently as he could. There was some sort of fear in his voice, but there was also surety. If anyone could save me it was Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I believed that.

I started to cry like a pathetic little kid as I heard him struggle against rocks. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to hold him. I didn't want to die in a dark hole or for him to hurt himself trying to get me. I just wanted _him_.

"Don't cry, sweetheart, _please_ don't cry," he begged, when he heard my muffled sobs.

"I – I'm scared," I admitted sheepishly.

"That's fine, that's fine. Sing for me. Sing for me so I know where you are," he requested. I coughed, swallowed, and nodded, but I knew he couldn't see me.

"_There – There's a possibility, there's a possibility, that all I have was, all I gon' get,_" I began, my voice weak and trembling. It was morbid but so... appropriate. "_There's a possibility, there's a possibility, all I'm gonna get, is gonna be yours then... So tell me you hear my heart stop, you're the only one I love... Tell me when you hear my silence, there's a possibility I wouldn't know_," I continued quietly.

I heard him chuckle. "You're doing wonderfully, Elizabeth. Only a little longer. Keep singing, please," he requested, and I could tell he was smiling. It was so... comforting.

"_Know that when you leave, know that when you leave, by blood and by me, you walk like a thief... by blood and by me and I'll fall when you leave_. _So tell me when you hear my heart stops, you're the only one I love, tell me when you hear my silence, there's a possibility I wouldn't know..."_

It was comforting then, when Jane and Charlotte started to sing with me. And then Charlie and Darcy hummed.

It was the most beautiful thing in the world, and I wish I wasn't so afraid so I could pay more attention to it. But bit by bit as I continued to sing and as little pinpricks of light shone through the rocks I started to feel... _better_, is the only way to say it. I felt better.

He held me as tightly as he could when the hole was finally big enough for him to reach out for me. It felt amazing to be held by him, with my tears on his shoulder. He pulled me out as quickly and as gently as he could, and laid me down on the grass. His hands were soft on my head as he pushed back my short auburn hair to survey the damage. The relief in his eyes transferred into my chest.

"My leg. It hurts," I muttered, when he asked me how I felt. His hands were smooth and careful as he wiped the dust off the large gash over my left leg with a damp flannel. I smiled patiently as Charlotte babbled, wishing she could distract me more while he pulled out antiseptic and a bandage.

It still hurt like the Dickens.

"You were very brave," he smiled finally, allowing me to sit up. My head was still killing me and my leg stung a little, but I did feel better. I gave him a small smile in return.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," I replied quietly. He shrugged, and his smile turned to more of a grimace.

"It's alright. Charlie, can you take her pack, and Collins, you take mine. I'm going to carry her," he requested of his two employees. Collins grumbled, but Charlie was eager to help, and to ruffle my hair like I was a small child who just grazed their knee.

I suppose he forgot about that whole kicking him into a ditch thing.

So I found myself being piggy-backed by Darcy as we headed to the next campsite. It was another pretty little clearing with another dodgy looking public restroom a few minutes walk away, but there was a pretty little stream and the ground was flat and dry for our tents. We _were_ going to do another lot of activities, but after the emotional excitement I think we were just tired. We set up camp (I say we, but I sat by a tree due to the state of my leg) while the sun was still high in the sky and all had a much needed cup of tea.

"Thanks," I smiled, when Darcy passed me a cup. He gave another grimace, and nodded.

I was a little confused, to say the least. Did he not like me anymore? Why did he grimace?

I mean, I'm not hideous, am I?

Oh fuck. I don't still have a monocle and moustache drawn on my face with lipstick, do I?

I managed to check my reflection in the surface of my iPhone to make sure it was lipstick free. I'm in the clear – so why does he not like me?

I feel like chucking a tantrum. He was an idiot about Jane and was pretty insulting to me, if we're honest, but he's sweet and kind and loving and – and I've been a complete idiot.

He probably realised what kind of weird, fucked up girl I am and decided it just wasn't worth it. Damn. They always find out in the end.

I was bitter and feeling like crap as they all chatted and laughed the evening away. When darkness fell it was time for another game of spotto. I sat by the bonfire, staring into the flames. I could hear them all laughing from the distance, but it only made me feel worse.

"Lizzy."

I turned to see Darcy behind me, a faint smile on his lips.

"I thought I'd keep you company, unless you'd rather I –" he stopped, and sighed. "I should probably go," he muttered ashamedly.

"No! Please, don't go. I – I'd like to talk to you," I smiled, patting the space on the log beside me. He looked somewhat apprehensive, but nodded, and sat down. "I want to thank you. _So much_ for everything you did today," I began, after taking a deep breath.

"Please. I don't want to hear it," he practically growled. I looked over in surprise.

"What?"

"I understand. You're 'grateful'. I know you still hate me, Elizabeth, and there's nothing I can do to change that," he snapped. "I'd rather your hatred than your feigned politeness out of _gratitude_."

I blinked. "You're a bit pissy this evening, then," I replied simply. He looked shocked, but only mildly affronted.

"What?"

"Darcy. I'm not being nice to you out of gratitude – I let you carry me down a mountain. I mean, you _did_ rescue me, but I'm being nice because you made a mistake, you recognised it and you tried to make amends!" I insisted with a frown. He stared into the fire with an unreadable expression. "I fell because I was so busy thinking about how much you've changed, how much you've grown, and how I wish I – I wish I hadn't pulled away, but after what you did to Jane I had no other choice," I sighed.

"I made you fall?" he questioned, clenching his fist. I took my hands in his to sooth his sudden anger.

"It's not like that. Fitzwilliam, I – I _do_ like you. Quite a lot. I might even love you, I –" I stopped myself, and hung my head. "I think I might. I mean, I think about you all the time, and I've always hated you so passionately that I have to wonder if maybe beneath that was... well, something else, the whole time," I admitted, feeling my cheeks flush with shame.

He said nothing for a moment, before I suddenly felt him place a gently hand behind my neck, and turn my head to his.

It was a perfect kiss. And I mean a _perfect_ kiss. I couldn't feel like that with some fling or with just another boyfriend, this was something else. This was – dare I say it, the same love that had built up inside of him over three years of glass walls and staring competitions. He might look at me all the time, but I only know that because _I _look at _him_ all the time.

I could hardly believe something so perfect was happening to me. Particularly when his hands tightened around my waist and he murmured something rather suggestive in my ear.

I raised a brow in surprise.

"But what if they come back after their game?" I challenged, a smile playing on my lips. He smirked, and pulled the glowstick out of his pocket.

"I have a suspicion they won't be finishing the game for a while," he assured me. I giggled into his chest, and before I knew it, he swept me up and carried me to his tent.

And I'd never been happier.

**DAY FOUR OF CRUEL TORTURE**

It wasn't really 'cruel torture', really. In fact, it was more like the best four days of my life. I didn't even care about Charlotte's lewd remarks as Darcy and I crawled out of his tent the next morning, and I was too involved with the way he held my hand to really take note of the cooing of Jane and Charlie.

He ordered a bus to come pick us up from the site after breakfast, citing my leg as the reason why we really shouldn't walk back to the first site. I couldn't help but agree, especially when he took my hand again in the bus and I was able to rest my head on his chest.

I moved in with him that day. Charlotte didn't mind, I think she was grateful, actually, that she didn't have to share a flat with a girl capable of burning water. I just hope Darcy doesn't mind/find out I'm a domestic disaster. Somehow I don't think it'll bother him.

Oh, and I'm quitting my job. We spoke about it last night, between – uh, rounds. It would be ridiculous for me to be my boyfriend's PA.

So I'm quitting, and getting a job under the creative direction sector. No more making tea. I'll be doing what I was _trained_ to do in the first place. And I'd rather get a promotion than lose my boyfriend before he'd even got a chance to be my boyfriend (although he hates that term, so I'm going to call him my bitch instead).

I'm not worried about moving in with him. We're both vegetarians, we both love Sherlock Holmes and we both have sisters. Maybe I'm being naïve, but I think this'll work. And not only do we both love Meat Loaf, we both love each other.

But we're not getting married till he admits that I AM THE SPOTTO QUEEN, BITCH.

Yeah, all our children will be illegitimate.

But at least they'll be cooler than Jane and Charlie's wimpy kids.

PS: They never found the glowstick. I picked it up from beside the campfire the next morning and pocketed it. It's a weird keepsake, but what the hell.

I'm a weird girl.

**A/N: This is an odd story. I was supposed to be working on assignments today but I was just so spaced out... I typed and this came out. It's weird, and rather silly. Anyways, this is probably all you'll see from me in a while. This is my 'assessment' term, with three major works due, and next term is my trial exams. I finish my final exams on the fifth of November (Guy Fawkes Day), and I'm planning on spending some time with my Great Aunt knitting before I go to Melbourne to cool off after thirteen years of education. So it'll still be a while yet before stories, but 'An Education' (summary in my profile) is almost done and 'L'Ange Noir' (again, summary in profile) is almost halfway finished. Writing gives me time to think after long days of study, assessments and exams. I want to have a few full fics finished by the time I finish my HSC so I can publish them quickly. **

**Anyway, I miss you all, and hope you're enjoying yourselves :D**

**PS: Song is 'Possibility' by Lykke Li. Epic singer.**


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